


Heels Over Head

by iesika



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which tables are turned and couches are broken. For Pornday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heels Over Head

It took Kon several years to get up the nerve to ask Tim if he maybe wanted to try going on a date sometime. Tim’s always been hot, but at first he was was creepy and intimidating, and then he’d been frustrating and intimidating, and then he’d been...

Kon’s best friend. His confidant. And this super competent, terrifyingly vulnerable human being under the mask - with a girlfriend. And Kon’d had Cassie. And then Tim didn’t have a girlfriend, or a dad, and Kon had died, and Tim had, by all accounts, decided to try for creepy, frustrating, _and_ intimidating. 

But then eventually they were both Titans again, and both single, and one night they’d both been hungry. And Tim was still competent, and still hot, and still human, though maybe it wasn’t so terrifying anymore. Kon had broached the question, and Tim had sat there in silence for a full minute before he’d shrugged and said, “sure. Thai or Italian?”

It had taken Kon several dates to get up the nerve to try for a kiss. When he did - careful, slow, and tentative, Tim had been so surprised he’d actually jumped when their lips met. Kon had been an absolutely perfect gentleman, keeping all appendages to himself. Ma would have been proud, even if it took sitting on his hands to do it.

It had taken a lot more of those chaste and gentle kisses before he’d tried for tongue. More before a hand up Tim’s shirt, and a hand on on his ass, and...

Kon’s jeans are really, really uncomfortable. He’d like to do something about that, but he’s afraid that if he moves too much, Tim will stop...rubbing up against him like that. Like Kon’s leg feels really, really good. And Kon would like to tell him he’s got other body parts that would feel even better, but the truth is, Kon’s been terrified since the first time they made out that Tim is going to spook like a shy horse and buck Kon right off.

He thinks Tim’s a virgin. _Really_ a virgin, because he never does anything until after Kon’s done it first, like he’s learning what kind of touches are okay. Kon’s tried to even the scales a bit, maybe set him at ease, by confessing that he’s never been with a dude before now, but he’s pretty sure that made everything worse for some reason. Made Tim even more shy, more tentative in his touches and, mmm, kisses.

Hot kisses, because hey, at least they’re over whatever invisible roadblock means he can suck on Tim’s tongue and get moaning in return. Tim really knows how to use his teeth, too, and Kon shouldn’t be so surprised that he’s got a bit of a dangerous streak in him, but he honestly never expected it in this context.

This is, after all, the guy who dated Stephanie Brown for years and apparently never went for it. Kon is pretty sure he could have managed that for, like, a month. Maybe. But then again, he’s been thinking about this practically since he was born, and this is the very first time he’s rubbed a thumb over Tim’s nipple. Not for lack of planning, though. Tim would be very proud of the level of planning he’s put into this moment. This - oh god, Tim’s hand just slipped into his back pocket. Kon makes an embarrassing noise and almost manages not to hump Tim’s leg. “Jesus.”

Tim’s hand withdraws suddenly when Kon speaks, but Kon catches it before it gets far and puts it right back where it was.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. I want-” wait, that sounds pushy. “You can touch me anywhere you want?” He hates that it comes out so unsure. Tim lets his head fall back and looks up at him, eyes searching. Kon swallows hard and looks down. He can see his hand under Tim’s t-shirt. The fabric is stretched up around his wrist, baring Tim’s stomach. There’s a faint line of dark hair under his navel, and Kon’s seen it a few times before, but, again, _context._

He moves his hand - first forward, rucking up Tim’s shirt a little further, and then down, mesmerized by the sight of his hand on Tim’s skin. When his fingertips circle Tim’s navel, Tim’s belly jumps, ticklish, and it makes Kon smile. He glaces at Tim’s face.

Tim looks... really turned on. Fucking _score_. He’s staring at Kon’s hand, too, apparently just as hypnotized. Kon drags his thumb down the little happy trail and hooks it into the waistband of Tim’s pants. His fingers curl around Tim’s belt buckle, but he doesn’t go any further than that.

And he’s been worried about Tim bucking, but when Tim really does buck it’s the hottest thing Kon’s ever seen - slim hips arching off the couch in a small, sharp thrust, and that's definitely an erection outlined clearly when his pants pull tight. If Kon’s other noises have been embarrassing, this one is downright humiliating, and it makes Tim go still. Kon wants to punch himself in the face. He wants to apologize. He wants-

He wants to rip Tim’s pants off and rub off against his abs. He wants to suck him until he screams and sink into him balls-deep and fuck his mouth and roll over for him and kiss him again and. The messages are mixed but they all mean the same thing anyway.

And then Tim’s hips move again, just slightly, shifting so that the hold Kon’s got on Tim’s belt pulls his pants tight again. Kon has to fight off the urge to just dive face-first for Tim’s lap. “You’re so hot,” he says, as an alternative. It’s inane but it’s true, and it seems to startle Tim. “What, nobody ever inform you of that fact?”

“Not you,” Tim says, matter-of-factly, and then he’s - _fuck_ \- sitting up a little and moving - leaving? No, he’s taking off his shirt. His nipples are flat and small and brown, and Kon is bent halfway to Tim’s chest with his lips parted before he realizes what he’s doing. He slows, moving carefully, looking to Tim for permission and reassurance, and kisses Tim’s sternum. 

Tim’s fingertips come to rest in his hair, not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer, either, so Kon sort of stays where he is, lavishing attention on Tim’s skin and _oh fuck god yes_ getting to taste him. The skin under his tongue is smooth, but studded with scars, and covered in a fine, fine sheen of salt that tastes _absolutely delicious._

When Tim makes a little sound, high in his throat, Kon pulls back to look at him. “Is this okay?” He bites his lip and waits. Tim sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. His fingers shake minutely when he puts both hands on Kon's chest, stroking him through his shirt. Kon groans and presses against his hands until Tim takes the not-so-subtle hint and firms his touch.

“You want to take yours off, too?” Tim asks. Kon swallows hard and nods. Before he can move, though, Tim's hands shift, rucking up Kon's shirt, hard-callused hands stroking up the skin underneath. Kon sits up all the way and and uses his telekinesis to yank off his shirt so that his hands can get back to what they want to be doing. When the shirt comes off his head, Tim is staring up at him with wide, wide eyes. Kon's hand has managed to end up on Tim's belt again. Kon pries his fingers loose and tries not to whimper.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes until he feels Tim's fingertips on his cheek. Kon opens his eyes and and looks down.

“Do you...want me to take my pants off?” Tim asks, quietly, and Kon’s head explodes.

Jesus fucking H. Christ bareback on a motherfucking pogo stick yes! “If-If you want,” he manages to stammer, totally cool. “That would be nice.”

Tim smiles, and the hand on Kon’s cheek squeezes gently before stroking over his ear and into his hair. Then he lets go to reach between them and put a hand on his belt buckle.

Kon floats up to watch as he opens it, deft hands quick on the buckle. The leather makes a whispering sound as it drags against the cloth, loud and pregnant as thunder to Kon’s hearing.

“You are so fucking hot,” he mumbles as he watches. Tim’s hips arch a few inches as the belt tugs free, and Kon falters in slack jawed-lust and drops, like a sex-crazed stone. Tim’s hands get caught between them, and for a few blistering seconds, his wrist presses against the front of Kon’s jeans. Kon’s not proud of himself, but he absolutely humps it.

Tim’s hand jerks away, and for a moment Kon thinks he’s ruined everything, but no - hot hands press to his bare back, arms around him, skin on skin, and Tim hisses through his teeth and grinds back. Kon licks those bared teeth until Tim’s mouth softens just enough.

Oh god, it feels good. Kon should be content with this. Kon could easily get off like this, but when he manages to stop biting Tim’s mouth, what comes out is, “maybe we could both take our pants off?” It sounds so stupidly, blatantly hopeful that Kon immediately squeezes his eyes shut and knocks his head against Tim’s shoulder. “Fuck, don’t listen to me.”

Tim’s body stills.

Kon thinks he might cry. To get this far, and then screw it up with his big mouth... He bangs his head against Tim a few more times.

“Kon, stop it.” Tim’s voice is soft, and doesn’t sound panicky or anything, so Kon does what he asks. “Look at me. Here, scoot up.”

They maneuver around until they’re both sitting upright on the couch. Kon sits facing the muted television with his hands in his lap. Beside him, Tim kneels, facing him.

“Kon...” Tim puts his hand on Kon’s shoulder. “We can take this as slow as you want to, okay? You don’t need to force yourself.”

Kon blinks. “Force myself?” He’s so shocked that his stupid tongue runs away with him again. “Dude, the only forcing myself I’m doing is not ripping your pants off.”

Tim opens his mouth and closes it again, his hand on Kon’s shoulder suddenly full of tension. Kon is ready to just fly off and pretend he was been possessed by...something. Maybe he can blame Ivy? Eventually Tim stands up, and Kon’ knows that this is it, he’s lost Tim forever, he’s scared him away, he’s REALLY fucked up this time-

But Tim is taking off his pants.

Taking off his pants with fast, efficient movements.

Briefs. Plain white, and it should be dorky, but there’s an erection in those tighty-whiteys, and it’s Tim’s, and Kon put it there, and Kon’s brain shorts out. “What?”

“Pants off. That’s what you wanted? Do you want to do this on the couch or the bed?”

Bed? Kon thinks his brain is still broken. “Are we really going to have sex?”

Tim pauses in the middle of folding his jeans, and turns back to look at Kon, suddenly, strangely, tentative again. It’s a weird look, paired with the hard on. “Do you want to?”

“Yes!” Shit. That wasn’t how he meant to say that, but fuck it, it’s out there. He watches in dull amazement as Tim pulls a handful of condoms and a tube of lubricant out of the pocket of the jeans and drops them onto the couch before setting the pants neatly onto the chair. The tube is clear, and half empty. “You want to?”

Tim looks at him strangely. “Of course I want to. I’ve been waiting for you to get more comfortable with the idea.” He hooks his thumb in the band of his briefs and then pauses. “This is okay? It’s just... well, the idea of your date having a theoretical penis is one thing. I know you’ve never been with a guy before.”

“Dude, I have been hot for your theoretical penis for like-” oh god, down go the briefs. Kon licks his lips and finishes on a whisper. “ever. Please, please say I can lick that?”

Tim stills for a moment, and then steps out of his briefs. The movement makes his cock bob, pretty in pink and … wow. Bare. Tim shaves? Kon’s brain has been smashed into so many pieces tonight that it has to resemble a fine powder. Guh. He watches, transfixed, as Tim takes himself in hand, stroking lightly a few times and then touching his sack, which is. Mmm. Smooth. He’s thinking about licking again.

“You really think you’re ready for that?” Tim asks. He approaches the couch and crouches, resting on the balls of his feet, knees spread. He puts his hands on Kon’s knees. “There’s no rush, Conner. Really. I can be patient. This is all new for you. We could just...” He slides his hand up Kon’s leg, and strokes a thumb lightly over Kon’s fly. “Touch each other. Learn each other’s bodies. There’s no shame in taking things slow.”

Kon swallows hard. “Do you want to take it slow?”

Something dark and hot flickers through Tim’s eyes. “Whenever we start moving forward, you pull away. I don’t want to pressure you, or make you uncomfortable. I’ve had a long time to think about what I want.”

That causes an odd feeling of wounded pride. “I’ve been thinking about it, too!”

The chuckle Tim lets out is low and smooth. It does things to Kon’s insides. “I’ve been daydreaming about homosexual acts since before you were ‘born’, Conner. As far as I know...” Tim trails off and bows his head a little. It’s an oddly sweet gesture, considering how close he is to Kon’s lap, but the proximity also makes it inappropriately hot. “I’m the first guy you’ve ever shown any interest in.”

“Yeah, but, like... For a long time,” Kon protests. He reaches out, carefully, and lets his fingers rest on Tim’s neck. “I used to think about...this spot right here. Right at the edge of your old collar.” Tim sucks in a breath, so Kon goes on, warming to the subject. “I’d sit behind you on the Supercycle and kind of...stare at it. Think about teeth. About.” He swallows again. “About biting you there, while I was...”

Tim’s head comes up. He stares at Kon, eyes dark, intense. The way Kon always imagines them behind the mask. “Fucking me.”

And Kon opens his mouth to answer, but he never gets the chance, because Tim surges up from his crouch and forward, naked, into Kon’s arms, pressing their mouths together. They’ve kissed like this, mouths tangling, tongues...tongues. But somehow this is different. Tim is different. There’s no coaxing, no gentleness. It’s not even the teeth - they’ve done teeth - it’s something else.

Something else that might just be Tim’s cock against his stomach, hard and hot and - Kon gets his hand between them and grasps it, gentle, at first, learning the shape, the feel of smooth skin. The touch makes Tim thrust, hips punching, and Kon can’t help the hand on his ass. He has to feel the muscles move under Tim’s skin. 

He feels familiar. That shouldn’t be a surprise, but in a way it kind of is, because Kon’s been thinking about this so long, and how touching himself couldn’t prepare him for it. And even though it makes Tim groan, makes him grip Kon’s shoulder hard enough to bruise a normal person, Kon has to let go of Tim’s erection and bring his hand to his mouth, breaking the kiss to lick his fingers and try the taste, to suck the pad of his thumb because it just feels good.

Tim gasps and brings their mouths back together, licking the back of Kon’s thumb, biting it. His cock is wet against Kon’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail as Tim thrusts against his abs. Kon was just thinking of doing this, and it doesn’t seem fair, until his fingers find the heat of Tim’s cleft and the soft - soft - skin over his balls.

Until Tim pulls back enough to kiss the back of Kon’s hand, bite his wrist, and say, “do you want to really taste it?”

God, fuck yes. He doesn’t say it out loud, though - just gets a better grip on Tim’s ass and boosts him up, until he’s kneeling high on the couch, legs on either side of Kon’s. Because of the way Tim’s legs are spread, Kon has to bend a little to bring their bodies into the right alignment, but it’s totally worth it, because Tim grabs the couch on either side of Kon’s head and gasps in surprise.

The gasp becomes a moan when Kon’s tongue flickers over the head, over skin smooth and tight and slick, slightly bitter because Tim is so hot that he’s leaking, and Kon made him this way. He learns the shape of the crown with his tongue and lips, little sucking kisses and quick laps, slow slide of the soft flat of his tongue as he goes down, taking a few inches into his mouth.

Tim gasps again. And then he moves. Kon has to draw back just a little, taken by surprise by the sudden thrust. He’s not sure if Tim did it on purpose until he hears Tim panting. “S-sorry. Oh god, that feels good.”

Kon hums and goes down again, bobbing his head, trying to keep his teeth out of things and sucking lightly as he goes. He gets a groan for it, and another thrust, this one much more shallow and controlled. An echoing groan rumbles in Kon’s chest. He tries sucking a little harder, and pressing with his tongue.

This time the thrust is deeper. He’s got Tim right on the edge, then, between just enough and not enough. If his mouth weren’t full, he’d grin. Instead, he pulls back to lick the head again. “It’s okay,” he says. “Invulnerable, remember. You just startled me the first time.”

“I don’t want to ch-oke you!” The last becomes a yelp as Kon goes down again, pressing his lips tight to the shaft and sucking hard. Tim pulls himself up, knees lifting from the cushions, his weight on his toes, arms rigid. “Oh god.” By the second bob, Tim is moving with him, thrusting deep into his mouth. Kon keeps his grip on Tim’s ass, stopping him from going too far, too deep, and just goes for it, forgetting to try and be fancy with his tongue, because just the slide against his palette - until Tim’s weight shifts, and there’s a hand gripping Kon’s ear.

A few more thrusts - and Kon really does have to hold Tim back, now, invulnerable or not - and suddenly Tim is pushing at him and gasping. “S-stop! Stop, Kon!”

Kon stops. That feeling is back - the one that says he’s gone too far, too fast, pushed Tim too hard - but when he relaxes the grip of his power enough for Tim to move back, Tim lets out a high whine and slides down Kon’s body, cock leaving a hot, wet line down his chest and stomach. He presses his mouth hard to Kon’s, tongue taking over where his cock left off, fucking Kon’s mouth, and that whine the whole time, that thrust of his hips against Kon’s body.

“Why-” Kon pants when Tim pulls away to breathe. “Why’d you make me-”

“I was going to come,” Tim pants back. “Conner, that was- You’re-” He kisses him again, wet and good, and then he just lets gravity take him, sliding down off the couch to the floor, his hands scrabbling at the button of Kon’s jeans, utterly graceless and eager.

“Whoa, are you-” If Tim’s belt had sounded like quiet thunder, Kon’s is a whipcrack when Tim yanks it free. Kon can’t help gasping for air, gasping from the shock of it, and then his pants are open and Tim is pulling and he can either rise up from the couch or get yanked right off.

“Off,” Tim says, only it’s more like a growl.

Kon can only nod and try to help. It takes him entirely too long to remember he has superpowers, but once he does, he has the jeans pulled down and off in about a second flat. “You know, you were-” He stops to gasp as Tim shoves his knees apart. “-supposed to come, right?”

This time it’s a pull instead of a shove, Tim’s strong hands hooked around the backs of Kon’s knees. Kon’s back sticks to the leather couch as he slips down, legs spread because Tim is kneeling between them.

“Are you gonna-”

“Yes,” Tim interrupts. He spreads Kon’s legs wider, just...looking, apparently. Breathing on him.

“I didn’t even say what I was-” Oh god, mouth. On his. Kon arches his back, until he’s barely touching the couch at all anymore. Tongue on his balls and oh fuck that’s barely even something he’d thought about, really, so maybe Tim’s right about having had more time to plan. The squeak he lets out is pretty undignified. 

“Everything,” Tim fucking purrs against the base of his shaft. “I’m going to...everything. Everything you’ll let me.” He sucks there, lingering, pressing with his tongue, and then he turns his head and mouths his way up toward the tip.

It feels amazing, and it looks just as good, Tim’s darkened eyes looking up at him from under heavy lids, his mouth red from kissing, tongue darting out to caress the head, soft and so, so sweet. Kon reaches up and grabs the back of the couch in one hand, so that he won’t just shove. He slaps the other hand over his mouth and throws his head back.

It’s stranger when he can’t see it. There are soft, wet touches, and he can’t quite be sure what’s lips and what’s tongue and...that was teeth, just a little. Just a touch. Kon shouts behind his hand. He shouts again when the suction starts, and, god, so hot and wet. Teeth again, just a scrape, and tongue and oh god, something soft against and around the head and it gives as Tim goes down. Tim’s throat and he’s -

Kon has to look. He has to see Tim’s mouth stretched tight, his nose in Kon’s dark curls. It’s probably the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen, and it takes everything Kon has not to do something that would probably break Tim’s teeth.

The couch cracks. 

Kon feels the beam at the back give way under his grip, hears it - and Tim must have heard it too, because he pulls back, up and off, coughing, and he looks at Kon, and the expression that’s probably on Kon’s face, and he has to look past Kon’s ridiculously eager erection to do it, and...it’s just a few seconds before Tim starts laughing.

“Did you really just-”

“I’m sorry!” Kon wails, and smacks himself in the face. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

“You broke my couch.” And Tim’s still laughing, but there’s something else there too, under it. He sounds proud of himself. “Well, the bedframe’s iron, at least. If worst comes to worse you could probably bend that back into shape, after.”

Kon stops hitting himself. “Bed?”

“Later,” Tim says. He gets a grip behind Kon’s knees again and pulls, up this time instead of down. Kon lets himself slide, not entirely sure where this is going but pretty sure he’s going to enjoy it. Tim’s got Kon’s legs spread wide now, and the stretch is starting to burn just a little. It makes him wonder what kind of freaky positions Tim can bend himself into. That’s a good thought.

Good like the touch of Tim’s mouth on his balls again, press of his nose and soft swipe of his tongue. This feels a little safer than the cocksucking, so Kon lets himself thread his fingers into Tim’s hair. God, that tongue. He arches and presses against it, humping up. His cock aches from neglect, and he reaches for it, only to get his hand caught. 

“Here,” Tim says, and wraps Kon’s hand around the back of his own thigh. He shoves. Kon takes the hint and lifts his leg - he’s not even sure why but it feels good to have something to pull against that he can’t accidentally hurt, so he goes with it. Goes with the teeth on his sack, just a press, a threat, and Tim’s hand cupping his ass, thumb in his cleft, thumb pressing against his-

“Holy fuck,” Kon gasps. Okay, not where he thought this night was going but okay. He can roll with this. He can roll his hips right up off the couch, pull his leg up to his chest, bare and spread and shit that is Tim’s tongue, and this is the dirtiest fucking thing Kon has ever experienced.

Tongue around the hole. Tongue in, wriggling and wet and fucking hot and Tim makes this noise and Kon realizes he’s pulling his hair. 

“S-sorry,” he gasps. “Fuck. Fuck fuck, Tim. Oh god.” Thumb working its way in, and the tongue’s not stopping, circling, pressing, thrusting beside it, until Kon can’t tell exactly what’s going on down there - just that it feels amazing. “You’re gonna kill me!”

The tongue stops, and Kon whimpers, scooting down the cushions to thrust his ass toward the missing sensation. “Not my intention,” Tim says, sounding amused, and then there’s a thin, cool stream of air. The shock of it makes Kon clench. The clench apparently makes Tim happy, because he hums and Kon gets a quick, soft, press of a kiss just there. “Can you reach the lube?”

Kon’s eyes cross. “Are you gonna-”

“Everything,” Tim repeats softly, “you’ll let me.”

Fuck, yes. Kon flails, flinging his arm around on the couch, but he can’t quite reach, and he’s really not going to move, so he extends his aura, grasping, stretching it - there - he can just...

Knock it to the floor and curse loudly, ignoring Tim’s little laugh. “I’ve got it,” Tim says, and Kon lets out a little sound of dismay when the tip of his thumb slips out. He can hear Tim laughing, and he lowers his leg so that he can twist enough to see him, but just like that, Tim is back, and shoving again at his thigh. Kon takes the order for what it is, and gets his other leg up too, for good measure - except Tim catches his ankle when he’s halfway there and pulls it back and out and hooks it over his shoulder as he and his amazing, wonderful tongue go back in for more.

The couch is already broken. Tim didn’t seem too mad about it. Tim’s rich, anyway, so as long as Kon promises to carry the new couch home it’s barely an inconvenience at all, right? So it’s totally okay for him to crush the wood under the padded armrest into splinters. Tim’s tongue feels that good, and the slick finger he’s working in - okay, there’s a little burn, he’ll admit, but it’s so fucking hot that it doesn’t feel anything but good. Kon’s touched himself there - mostly thinking about how Tim was right there in the next shower over wearing nothing but a mask - but never deep like this, fucking like this, the whole length of Tim’s finger sliding in and out, crooking and bending, stroking him in places he’d really never connected with the concept of stroking. How the hell had he never noticed how long Tim’s fingers are? How slim and strong and perfect?

“I really like your fingers,” Kon babbles, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. “Like, really, really like. Like maybe-in-love-with-like.” And maybe Kon’s not just talking about the fingers, and maybe Tim’s not an idiot and probably knows that, because he picks that moment to slide the second finger in to the first knuckle and lick a hot stripe from Kon’s balls all the way up to the tip of his cock.

“They like you too,” Tim says, and it should be cheesy, but Tim’s got two hands, and when the fingers that aren’t knuckling his perineum or lovingly violating his asshole wrap around Kon’s cock again and squeeze, Kon lets out the kind of shout that makes the neighbors call the police if your boyfriend hasn’t bought out the top three floors of his apartment building. “Too much?”

“No!” Kon assures him, because what if he decides to stop? “Not too much, just fucking right, oh god - You’re gonna do me, right? Because I really think you ought to-” he gasps as Tim gets the second finger all the way in and thrusts. It’s weird and it’s new and it makes him wriggle. By the third little stab, he’s decided it’s wonderful. “Do it, fuck. If your fingers feel that good-”

“You’re still so tight,” Tim protests, but he’s panting. Kon’s not even touching him, but the shake in his voice makes him sound dangerously close to the edge.

“Don’t you fucking come before you fuck me, you - ow-” Something - oh. Another finger. “Ah! more lube.” He knows, objectively, that Tim can’t hurt him this way without, like, a kryptonite dildo or something, but Tim’s fingers feel so big.

There’s a pause, and then the cold of the lubricant in his cleft makes him shiver. “Push back,” Tim orders as he presses in again, and Kon tries humping back against his hand. “No, like - god that’s hot. Push. Like you’re pushing me out.”

“I don’t want you out!” Kon protests, but Tim lets go of his cock to slap him on the ass, so he concentrates for a moment on something other than not coming and gives it a try. Tim’s fingers slide right in on the next good push, deep, and with no more burn than there’d been with two. Kon’s so surprised that he forgets to concentrate on not clenching up again.

“Oh god,” Tim mumbles. His head drops against the back of Kon’s upraised thigh, and he waits until Kon gets his muscles under control before moving his fingers again. “This is going to feel so, so, so-” and maybe more ‘so’s, but Kon can’t really tell because Tim is biting Kon’s leg.

“No coming!” Kon protests. He can - he can get the hang of this. But Tim’s not moving his hand anymore, so Kon wraps his aura around his wrist and tugs. It’s easier than moving his whole body, and it makes Tim make noises against his skin. A few seconds later, though, he feels Tim struggling against his aura, so he stops and lets him go.

Tim pulls his fingers out - it feels kind of weird, and Kon feels kind of open in a way he absolutely has never thought about before. He’s just about to comment on it when Tim pries his mouth away from Kon’s leg and licks over his hole with the soft flat of his tongue. It feels different, now that he’s - well - open. Hotter and... more. The way his lips feel when Tim’s been biting them for a while - sensitive and tender, until he can feel the texture of Tim’s tongue, just slightly rough. It feels...intimate.

“Bleh,” Tim says. A moment later, he licks Kon’s thigh. “Remind me to buy the kind you’re supposed to lick, next time.” Another lick - getting rid of the taste, Kon guesses. It’s funny, somehow, that Tim’s had his tongue in Kon’s ass, but lube on his tongue has got him making faces, and Kon can’t help laughing. Tim stops scrubbing his tongue and looks up, smiling back. Something swells in Kon’s chest, and it’s only got a tiny bit to do with the casual way that Tim said ‘next time’. 

Tim’s smile changes, subtly, and he pushes Kon’s leg off of his shoulder and stands. He looks down at Kon in a way that makes Kon’s laugh falter and his breath catch. He seems so smoothly confident, prepared, totally in control of this partnership and one hundred percent aware of it. Kon doesn’t know how he ever thought this could be any other way. The quirk of Tim’s lips makes him feel young and new again, fresh out of the tube and desperate to impress. “Rob.”

“Kon.” It’s like the thing with Tim’s fingers. There’s so much going on under the words, things Kon’s not sure either of them are ready to say. He can feel it, though. He can feel Tim feeling it. He brushes Tim’s bare leg with his ankle and uses the touch to haul Tim down for a kiss.

Okay, the lube really does taste pretty awful. Like plastic and vaseline. He keeps kissing Tim anyway, until the taste fades. Tim hums softly into his mouth, smiling, and Kon pulls back for long enough to mumble against his lips. “Fuck me, Tim.”

A sharp hiss of breath in response, and a sharper kiss. A moment later, Tim is standing up again, pushing on Kon’s knees - and he knows what that means, now, so he lifts, spreads, his hands braced in the hollows behind his knees. Tim’s eyes dart down and he licks his lips - a simple motion that sends a shock of fresh arousal through Kon, just from knowing how bare he is, how spread, how much at Tim’s mercy.

The couch dips slightly when Tim braces his knees against the edge - maybe Kon did something to the frame, too, and he just didn’t notice. He’s been distracted, after all. He’s beyond caring now anyway, completely focused on Tim’s fingertips spreading his cleft, on the sight of Tim gripping himself, guiding himself, the drag of his smooth head against Kon’s slick and tender skin. “God.” It comes out soft and shaky.

“Yeah,” Tim whispers back, and presses in, breaching him.

It’s a strange feeling. He can feel his body resisting, at first, until he remembers the way Tim taught him to relax those muscles. Once the head is in - god, in - it gets easier, but Kon can still feel his hands shaking. Or maybe that’s his legs. Maybe it’s all of him. The slide of it, the cool lube and hot skin, leave him shivering with sensory overload. Tim moves so slowly that the press seems to go on forever. Kon is suddenly aware of how Bart must feel when time around him starts moving like molasses.

Tim’s eyes are closed, not squeezed, but resting lightly, lashes fluttering. He opens them with a gasp and a tiny thrust that makes Kon gasp too. He’s in all the way. “You feel...” He shudders and falls forward, bracing himself with a hand on the couch, beside Kon’s hip. He pulls his hips back just a few inches and thrusts in again, slightly faster this time. Kon lets go of his own leg and clutches wildly at the air until Tim catches his hand.

Another short thrust, and another before Tim has to let go so that he can brace with that arm, too, gripping the back of the couch. Kon holds his wrist instead, and wraps his leg around Tim’s waist, using it to urge him on. The way Tim is bent over him means his stomach is dragging over Kon’s erection as he moves, and Kon is torn. There’s so much sweet, slick friction going on that his lizard-brain can’t decide what to focus on. His awareness flickers. Stretch and burn as Tim thrusts in, rocking him. Glide and drag as he rocks back, picking up speed. Kon moves with him as best he can, but his mind and body are so shaken that he can barely hold the rhythm.

Tim doesn’t seem to mind, though. His eyes are dark and boring into Kon’s, his mouth open, breath coming in ragged pants. “Kon,” he says, barely more than a whisper. It sounds almost pained in its intensity.

“Me too,” Kon pants, responding to what isn’t said. His mind is so shot that he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking nonsense. “Always. Tim.”

That’s okay, though, because Tim seems to be in the same state. “Yeah.” Tim’s eyes close again and his head drops, forehead resting on Kon’s collarbone. “I want to make you come.”

Kon’s fingers spasm on Tim’s wrist, but he manages not to squeeze. “You too.” He closes his eyes and concentrates, flexing and tightening, enjoying the way Tim gasps and pants and fucks him faster. His eyes fly open again when Tim’s hand wraps around him, and he bucks into the touch. They find a rhythm, then, between Tim’s thrusts and his strokes, that makes Kon writhe and toss his head back, makes Tim moan and bite at his shoulder. Kon can feel his orgasm building. “So good. Don’t stop.”

“Good,” Tim echos, but that seems to be all the speech he’s capable of at the moment. He squeezes and strokes Kon with one hand, his hips moving smoothly. His teeth dig slightly into Kon’s skin, a sharp pressure that would be pain if Kon were more vulnerable. As it is, the sudden stimulation is just what Kon needs, and he shudders all over, convulsing with a wordless shout. Tim makes a strangled sound, his thrusts becoming ragged, frantic. He strokes Kon a few more times, gentling him through it, and then drags his sticky hand up Kon’s chest, bending his head to lick, to bite his own fingers and Kon’s skin between them.

“Come for me,” Kon orders - no, begs. Definitely begs. He wants to feel that - wants to hear what kind of sounds Tim makes, see if he holds his eyes open or closed. Tim loses his rhythm completely, moving over and into Kon wildly, moaning low.

Kon turns his head, and catches Tim’s cheek in his palm. He tugs him close enough to kiss, and gets his lip bitten. That’s when Tim stills inside him, shaking all over, completely silent. Tim holds his breath for several long seconds and then lets it out in a quiet rush before kissing Kon in earnest, hips moving shallowly, languidly, the slide so much easier now, and slicker.

“You just came inside me,” Kon says when he can speak again. It sounds stupid once his mouth has formed the words, but that doesn’t make the feeling any less profound.

“I did,” Tim says. There’s wonder in his voice, and Kon is glad. As long as they both feel this way, there’s nothing stupid about it.

Kon gives in and lets the sappy smile take over his face. Slowly, Tim’s face falls into a mirror of his own expression. “That was really good.”

“Mmhmm,” Tim agrees. He pulls out and flops onto the couch beside Kon. Kon lets his feet fall to the floor and leans sideways until he’s laying on top of Tim, who doesn’t seem to mind a bit.

“You were really good,” Kon clarifies. “You were...where did you learn to do that?”

“Mmm...” Tim sounds so sleepy and content that Kon isn’t really expecting an answer. He just closes his eyes and concentrates on the brush of Tim’s fingers through his hair. “Books,” Tim says after a long moment. “The internet. Practice with toys. Nightwing.”

Kon is upright before he even decided to sit up, looking down at Tim with wide eyes. “You had sex with Nightwing!?”

Tim chuckles. “No. Calm down.” He reaches for Kon, who reluctantly lets himself be tugged back down to lay with his head on Tim’s chest. “He gave me advice. Lots of advice. More advice than I wanted, actually, but most of it actually came in pretty handy.”

Such a relief. Not that it would be fair for him to get jealous about a past lover - Tim and Cassie are perfectly good friends, after all. Still, he’s glad not to have to compete with Nightwing. And too cool to admit that. “Heh. 'Handy'.”

Tim snorts. When Kon looks toward his face, Tim’s eyes are closed. The room is a little cool, but Kon shifts his aura to hold their warmth in and nuzzles against Tim’s chest. He feels happy, warm, and sated. The stress and fear are gone. This is Tim - his best friend. He’s not sure why he was so worried to begin with, and there isn’t anything left in him to be worried about the future. Whatever happens, Tim will still be Tim. They’ll make it work.

The thump of Tim’s heart beneath Kon’s cheek is reassuring, and his eyes start to drift closed. The bed would be more comfortable, but that would require too much effort. Instead, Kon rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. He has to tuck his legs up instead of stretching out, but what the hell. It’s actually pretty nice and cozy.

Until the couch leg snaps and tips them onto the floor.


End file.
